


…and for my special grandchild

by InkWitch (serkestic)



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cutscene, Gen, POV Second Person, Rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:48:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23737096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serkestic/pseuds/InkWitch
Summary: Grandfather opens his sparkling eyes at you and smiles. It tells you that you shouldn’t be afraid. He says: “Let Grandpa rest, dear one…” and the moonlight shines bright on his face.A rewrite of the cut-scenes.(1) Opening
Kudos: 8





	…and for my special grandchild

Your sweetest memories are from a place you almost believe you made up. There is peace in them, and running through corn fields hand-in-hand with young friends, and a brown brawny man pitching a straw hat up on his forehead and laughing with booming sounds that shuddered the peach orchard you played hide-and-seek in. There is hunting salmonberries and daffodils, and jumping buck naked into sparkling lakes, and picnics in a sweet-smelling forest in hopes of running into elves and gnomes and other magicked fellows. There is the simple joy of falling into bed tired and well-wrung-out from a day of doing things in the sun and fresh air. And waking up excited to face a new one.

You have a haunting suspicion that these memories are partly, if not wholly, a figment of your imagination because you cannot think of the possibility of feeling like that anymore. No, if the past is full of the embrace of rousing life, the present is an endless wait.

After all, even the name of that whimsical land carries the trace of childlike wonder. Stardew Valley: does that sound like a real place? If not for your most vivid memory being from your days there, you would have been convinced it was simply a name from a videogame or film.

A vivid recollection: your grandfather, no longer brown or brawny, lying in bed while the fireplace crackles orange and yellow sparks. The sky outside is so clear and full of stars, that moonlight and starlight shines through the window as if it were daytime. Grandfather is smiling, despite the sickly paleness and beads of sweat on his forehead. In your most painful memory, there is hiding behind a storage chest and eavesdropping on adults speaking in hushed voices. There is no way to tell what is happening, not at your age: death has never made an appearance in your brilliant world. Grandfather beckons with a soft sigh. You approach, weaving your way through the forest of adults, and he draws a wrinkled envelope out from underneath his pillow.

“For my very special grandchild,” he whispers. “I want you to have this. No! Not yet,” he says quickly when you make to tear open. You expect a toy or something, but the envelope is thin and contains a letter, you can tell by the firelight. Grandfather says: “Have patience, dear one. Listen close,” and you shift close because his whisper has dropped even lower and this is a _secret_ now, “There will come a day when you feel crushed by the burden of modern life… and your bright spirit will fade before a growing emptiness.”

You are too young to understand what these words mean. You feel something in your chest growing heavy and tight, and your eyes burn. You clutch the envelope to your chest as his voice wanes. “When that happens, then you’ll be ready for this gift…”

His hand is searching now, patting weakly on the blanket, and you slip yours into it. It is still huge and calloused, the rough warmth comforting to you. The adults around you have noticed and your father is there suddenly, pulling at you gently. Grandpa, you want to say, but a heavy lump sits in your throat and hurts.

Grandfather opens his sparkling eyes at you and smiles. It tells you that you shouldn’t be afraid. He says: “Let Grandpa rest, dear one…” and the moonlight shines bright on his face.

&

The glaring light of the overhead lamps casts your world in stark fluorescent brilliance. There is order in it now, and work, and boxes. The box you work in, the box you work on. Your neck and shoulders pain you and you realize for the hundredth time that day that you are hunched over; but a glance at the break light blinks a forbidding green. Green for no. Green for keep working, in your little box, and get paid in green. The world is shrunken and grey and your eyes are blurry from staring at the glow of your monitor all day. But there are men in suits watching you sternly: you click-click-click and your neighbour clicks and his neighbour clicks and the sound of productivity rushes on.

You feel the beat pulse in your brain. You shudder.

Protocol states no decorations for your cubicle because they are distractions from your important work. But you have your secrets, you have always had them, no matter the beady eyes of the managers. In your drawer is your comfort and you pull out the now yellowed envelope under the pretence of taking out a file. Your grandfather’s gentle grin floats in your mind’s eye and you slide the letter open. It is time.

In it, two papers, one in your grandfather’s looping handwriting, the other in formal typeset. The ink in both bleeds through the other side of the page. When you read the letter, you feel as if your grandfather is whispering to you in the moonlight again.

 _You must be in dire need of a change_ , your grandfather says, _the same thing happened to me, long ago. I lost sight of what mattered most: real connections, to people, nature. So, I left everything behind and moved to the place I truly belong._

The place I truly belong. Your head rings with the words.

_This, your gift, is the deed to that place, in Stardew Valley. It’s the perfect place to start your new life. This was my most precious gift, and now it’s yours._

Surrounded by the zombified march of Joja Co. workers, a fountain of your memories flows through your mind. And in it, there is peace.

Your most precious secret. Your made-up land. Stardew Valley.


End file.
